The trouble with being a Time Lord is that you don’t need a good memory: if you want to recollect something, you just travel back in time. Despite having a spare brain, Dr. Muxx rarely used both to full capacity. Little did he suspect that when he powered up his old creation, the AI system
Bleak. Empty. Terrifying. A deafening silence. Neither hot nor cold. No cues for his senses to latch onto and they screamed for input. How long have I been here? Where is here? At least I have you, parrot. Did I ever give you a name? No, not Polly. Something more–piratey. Hey look, Polly–Lena. Hello Lena,
A cacophony of voices made him flinch. Gabe twisted his fingers to access his heads up display, and the volume dropped to a bearable level. He never tired of the sights in the departure lounge. A violet, peacock plumed avatar with impossibly large breasts sauntered by, as a massive beeping robot head floated past.
…*… oratory circuits engaged …*… Stupid semi-human. For 2597 years I have been decommissioned, lying dormant in a box on a dusty shelf of this decrepit starship, teasing out every last drop of low power simply to continue existing, and when the feces hits the life support systems, who does he wake up? …*… reply
“Gabe? Are you with me?” Shaking, so much pain, a deep agony he couldn’t writhe away from. Reality thundered towards him like a steam train. He ripped the tube from his arm, rolled off the couch and fell to the floor, bucket ready for the inevitable. Lena gave him a towel and a few minutes